


something stupid ( like i love you)

by alltheworldsinmyhead



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Domestic, F/M, Love At First Fight, Modern AU, Single Parent AU, also artist!clarke, and singing bellamy bc i'm awesome, so domestic it's unbelievable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-07 18:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5465753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltheworldsinmyhead/pseuds/alltheworldsinmyhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>bellamy's new mysterious neighbour has a pretty cat who turns out to be an unwilling matchmaker</p>
            </blockquote>





	something stupid ( like i love you)

**Author's Note:**

> This took like two years of my life, just so you know.
> 
> This fic's sprang from my desire for teeth-roothingly sweet domestic bellarke, which only intensified after seeing s3 trailer, so you can actually blame it all on J Rothenberg as always. I was trying my best to connect it with Christmas somehow, but I'm not really in a mood this year, so i'm really sorry if it doesn't feel exactly merry.  
> Special thanks to Lana aka marauders-groupie who's better friend than i could ever ask for and the BEST bellarke fic writer in history, seriously, you should all check her fics out.  
> As a non-native speaker, i apologise in advance for all the mistakes that may occur.  
> Title from Frank Sinatra's song and i strongly recommend listening to it while reading bc of reasons.  
> Hope you'll enjoy ;)

 

* * *

 

Bellamy’s new next-door neighbor moved in two weeks ago, and by far, all he knows about her is that she’s female and either a) paints or b) refurbishes her apartment, because whole floor stinks like a fresh paint. She also really likes classical music and movie scores and she plays them loudly on repeat all day long, and it makes Bellamy throw his Beethoven CD-s away, fully aware he’ll never be able to listen to them again.

She hardly ever leaves her apartment, or she does it only when he’s at work, so the only time he has ever seen her, was when she was moving in and he caught a glimpse of a ponytail of  blonde hair before she slammed the door behind her. And he is definitely not a type to bring ‘welcome to the building’ cookies to new neighbors, so he  just leaves her alone and carries on with his life-

Until he comes home one night and there’s a fucking huge cat sitting on plates next to his kitchen sink and not even meowing, but straight up _wailing_ so loudly, that Bellamy has an urge to run away as fast as he can.

 

 

It’s a ragdoll, which he only recognized because Octavia really wanted one when she was little, until he made her realize how much of assholes cats can be. It’s also blue- eyed and prettier than most people he has ever met. When he steps into the kitchen, cat stops crying  and glances at him, tip of his- or her, who the hell knows- tail up, head slightly tiled as if it was contemplating what to do with him.

-          Hi, there, kitty.- sighs Bellamy, because fuck, it’s been a long day and now he has to deal with an unexpected guest leaving fur on his freshly washed dishes.- What are you doing here?

Cat meows again and Bellamy notices that it must’ve get in through kitchen window which is slightly ajar and slightly smaller than cat, but he saw all the YouTube videos about cats getting in cubes and little boxes,  so well, be it.

Bellamy opens the fridge and grabs a tin of already half eaten tuna to give it to the cat as a peace offering ( don’t judge him, it’s really fucking huge and he would like to keep all of his fingers in place, okay) and when the cat’s eating, Bellamy notices how well-kept it is, with its long fur perfectly brushed and clean and no missing pieces of ears and a pink collar around its neck.

He silently prays before he gently turns the collar around, searching through soft, thick fur until he finds a silver pedant with ‘’Edgar’’ engraved on it and an address-

Next door to Bellamy actually.

Bellamy adds ‘’owns giant cat’ on the mental list of things he knows about the mysterious blonde and lets the cat finish the tuna until he puts on pair of thick, floral-patterned gardening gloves O left last week and picks the cat up. To his surprise, it doesn’t fight in any way- it just lets out a small meow

 He gets out of his apartment and stands on the doormat under the door opposite to his; knocks twice and has his fist raised to do it again ( and his left arm hurts, because this cat is actually really freaking heavy) when the door opens and he’s faced with her for the first time.

She has piercing blue eyes and is a bit shorter than Bellamy; her hair is actually lighter than he remembered, two strands which would probably normally frame her face pulled behind her head, light pink sweater and a pair of leggings, hands covered in charcoals. She has a mole above her lips, which are pursed tightly.

She’s really, really pretty.- he thinks a bit in awe. Like really fucking I’d-turn-aroud-if-i-saw-you-on-the-street pretty.

She also really, really pregnant, and, because she has hands on her hips, it only makes her already big belly stand out even more.

She looks annoyed for a moment, before she notices the cat and sighs with relief and just _beams_ and if Bellamy was in awe before, the wonderful thing this sight does to her chest pushes him even further away from rational thinking. 

Like, he starts to curse himself for now being a good cookie- bringing neighbor.

He can be so fucking stupid sometimes.

-          Oh my god, you found Edgar. – she says and takes the cat away from him; it purrs and presses it’s head to the material of her sweater, cuddling in.- I was going to go around the building and ask people if they haven’t seen him, but using stairs is kinda- uhm- tricky now.- she says, light pink blush coloring her cheeks.

He notices her arms are already shaking a bit from the weight of the cat and he’s about to say something like- you really shouldn’t hold him up , I had problems and I’m not producing a small human  being inside me – but then she just simply drops Edgar on the floor; he lands gracefully but with a offended shriek and marches inside the apartment.

-          No problem. I found him sitting on my sink. – Bellamy manages to say.

The sheer presence of her makes him forget he has a tongue and it would be funny if it wasn’t so terrifying. It has never happened around any girl before. O’s going to choke to death from laughing so hard.

-          Yeah. He likes watching running water.- the girl nervously puts a stray strand of hair between her ear. – I think he feels kinda neglected now. He’s used to being carried around and babied, but now I have actually baby to carry around and my back kills me, so it’s off limits. Actually… I think we haven’t exchanged names. I’m Clarke.-  she gives him her hand and he takes a glove off toshake it, focused on how sweaty his own is. – Nice to meet you.

-          Bellamy Blake. Pleasure’s all mine. I kinda, uhm- he scratches the back of his neck an feels like a total, utter idiot.- I kinda have to go now. I’ve just came back from work and I have to buy something for a dinner, since my fridge’s all empty.

Clarke studies him for a moment, brows furrowed and eyes fixed on his until she titles her head just like Edgar before and says:

-           Do you like lasagna? 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke’s place is surprisingly clean and ordered for a pregnant twenty-something  living alone with a cat.  There are fresh peonies in the vase on white kitchen table and walls are painted pastel purple, white and light grey and Bellamy spots large canvas next to the window in the living room. Edgar practically disappears, buried in the pillows on the rocking chair and Clarke pushes sketchbooks and charcoals from the armchair before offering him a sit and telling him to make himself at home.

She opens the fridge and puts out Tupperware covered with silver tin foil.

-          Mrs. Sinclair went to visit me on my first day, glanced at me  and from then on she drops me unreal amount of food every day. I think she takes the term ‘starving artist’ literally. – she explains, putting a big piece of lasagna on a blue plate and the starting the microwave.

Bellamy smirks.

-          Yeah, she tried to do it for me too. She still does, sometimes, but then my baby  sister visits and devours it all.

-          You have a little  sister?- Clarke drops on the rocking chair next to Edgar who hisses, but stays in his spot, putting his head on her tight and demanding to be petted. She absentmindedly strokes the spot between his ears and Bellamy has never wanted to be a cat before, but he guesses there’s a time and place for everything.  

He’s so pathetic it actually hurts.

-          Octavia. And well, she’s not that little anymore. She’s actually twenty and she’s living with her boyfriend, I just have big brother bear complex. – Bellamy’s eyes wander around the apartment and then he spots ultrasound picture attached to the fridge doors with heart-shaped blue magnet. It’s kinda freakishly cute, like everything about Clarke so far. She looks at the same direction and smiles brightly, one corner of her lips a bit higher than the another one.

He’s so. Fucking. Done.

-          So, there’s Bean.- she pats her belly gently and shakes her shoulders, when he looks at her, confused.- ‘It’ sounded just wrong and ‘Baby’ was weird too and I still have no idea how to name her. Also, she kinda looked like a bean on this photo. So.

 

 

Over the plate of lasagna – or tuna, again, in Edgar’s case ( like, no wonder this cat’s so heavy) – Bellamy learns that Clarke isn’t actually a great fan of classical music.

-          I hate it.- she sighs, chin propped up on hand as she digs in pasta-meat-tomato sauce mess on her plate with a fork. – I’m more like, angry people screaming about how unfair their lives are, as I’m painting. But my doctor insisted and – like, who am I to disagree ? And well, at least she likes the music loud, as me.

-          I’ve noticed.- Bellamy shoots, before he can stop himself and it takes him approximately like one second before he has an urge to strangle himself.

Clarke sharply raises her head up to face him, her cheeks and tips of her ears slightly pink.

-          Oh my god, I was actually harassing you with baby-stimulating music, wasn’t  I ?

She was, but Bellamy is so not going to say, when she looks so damn concerned.

-          Nah. I actually like it, I don’t mind. It’s just – loud, you know?

Clarke’s still clearly embarrassed. Bellamy still wants to kick himself in the face.

-          I’m so sorry. I guess I’m not used to living next to the people in the building with walls as thick as a piece of paper. I’ll adjust , I promise.

-          It’s okay.- he huffs.- Like, Mozart is good. Like you said- brain stimulation? Maybe there’s some kind of hope for me too.

This makes Clarke smile a little, which Bellamy counts as a victory. She comes back to playing with her dinner and taps with a finger on the wood of the table.

-          I don’t think brain’s still developing at your age.

-          Hey, don’t make me feel like I’m standing over my grave. Kids these days, I swear.

Clarke chuckles and covers her mouth with one hand, winking at him.

-          There’s only one kid there and she can’t, thankfully, articulate her opinions yet. Anyway, I’ll probably switch to angry screams as soon as she’s born for the people in the building to listen to the music instead of her crying

-          So.- he takes another bite of lasagna and almost _moans_. God bless Mrs. Sinclair.- Do we have a lot of time to prepare for that?

-          Nine weeks. I mean, that’s what they told me, but- I don’t know.- she shrugs .- I’d like her home for Christmas.

-          Like a gift to yourself, huh?-  he smiles to her and she chuckles , her face all glowing and crinkles around her eyes.

-          Yeah, something like that.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

After this first meeting Bellamy expects he’ll have to come up with some bizarre excuses to see her again, but, fortunately, Edgar harasses him on daily basis, curling up in a ball on his closed laptop, leaving fur on his pillows and making fine mess in his student’s papers, chewing on the tests and throwing plants from window still with his tail.

And normally he would mind, but every time he comes home, that cat greets him, meowing until he picks him up and brings back to Clarke.

And then she lets him in and they chat and he tells her about his day at school and she asks him about his opinion on her illustrations and then they eat dinner together and it’s – they just fall in this kind of every day routine, easily, effortlessly.

Bellamy suspects Clarke’s lonely, or more like, he’s quite sure about it. She has never mentioned Bean’s father and she pretty much only sees him and Mrs. Sinclair, locked up in her apartment like in a tower, a photograph of young man with blonde girl on his shoulders standing on her bedside table, a picture of black boy smacking a kiss on the same blonde's cheek beside it, gorgeous cinnamon-skinned young woman looping an arm around laughing Clarke’s neck on the photography on the fridge right next to ultrasound one - but she never talks about those people and they never visit her and Bellamy doesn’t want to push.

She tells him one time that her dad’s dead and her mum’s in still in her hometown, Atlanta, and he knows a bit about her job as a cover designer and illustrator, but that’s all he gets.

They mostly talk about different things, anyway. They discuss everything and biker and argue and toss arguments, and even when it’s heated it’s also all good-hearted and seriously, Bellamy is so screwed, because this girl is not only literally stunning, but also funny and intelligent and a good partner in conversation and he’s a goner.

But she has a baby on the way and he’s still more just a neighbor than anything else to her and he can’t help but wonder if they even have a chance to work out together.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Octavia meets Clarke for the first time around two weeks after Bellamy finds Edgar on kitchen silk. She drops by just when he’s knocking on Clarke’s door with the cat in his arms and when Clarke opens, she invites Octavia in and it takes them approximately half an hour to become best friends, talking shit about Bellamy and Clarke demanding his baby pictures.

It’s a bit terrifying.

  
And now it’s two a.m. and they’ve been playing scrabble all afternoon, and the later it gets the more bizarre words appear on the table ( ‘what the heck ‘defene’ means, Clarke?’ ‘ it’s the beginning of ‘defenestration’, you uncultured swine’) and now they’re sitting in Clarke’s living room, dimed lights and cinnamon scent of Yankee candles making them feel dizzy.

Clarke herself has passed out wrapped in a baby pink blanket with her head on his lap, just after attacking and devouring four cups of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and whipped cream.

( ‘I don’t even like hot chocolate’ – she whines, accusingly glancing at her protruding belly and Bellamy can’t help but burst into laughter)

It’s all soft and quiet and Bellamy’s about to fall asleep himself when Octavia says:

-          I was going to tell you not to get too involved, but I guess this bridge is already burnt, isn’t it?

He raises his head sharply to look at her; she looks strangely calm, not concerned as he expected, but more like – focused. She has brows furrowed and Edgar is laying on her shoulders, looking like a huge, furry collar.

Clarke lets out a small snort and he chuckles, glancing at her. He should find it endearing but he does and maybe , just maybe, O is right. Clarke has her lips slightly parted and her cheeks are almost burning, so he loosens the blanket around her neck a bit and pushes curls from her neck.

O’s eyes are a bit sad and he knows that she’s scared of him and he probably should be scared too.

But there are cross-stitched pillows he made for Clarke two days ago laying on the couch and the cat is meowing melodically , falling on Octavia’s laps like a grey liquid. Lights are yellow and orange and as Bellamy puts his hand on Clarke’s belly, he can feel Bean  inside, all slow movements, gentle for her mother.

And honestly, he has never felt so unafraid before.

-          Yeah, Octavia.- he says.- I think it’s a bit too late to back down now.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s half past three  in the morning and Bellamy’s woken up by someone banging on his door.

He manages to somehow find his glasses on the nightstand and put them on his nose while tripping on various objects and pieces of furniture while going through his dark apartment.

-          Who, the hell- he opens the door and there’s Clarke, grey coat thrown on  haphazardly and a scarf looped around her neck, hair out of place, pink stripped bag in one hand, another wrapped protectively around her midsection.  Bellamy feels very, very awake, suddenly.-  Clarke? What are you doing ? Is everything-

-          I’m so sorry, Bellamy.- she says, a bit breathless.- But I think it’s started.

-          I thought you had like, two weeks left?

-          I did. Had. But she clearly thinks it’s time to stretch out a bit more.- her lips curve in small smile and she tries to keep her voice cheerful, but he can see fear in her eyes and the way she grips on the bag so tightly, that her knuckles are white.- I have a cab waiting for me, can  you please take care of Edgar until I come back?

-          Wait. You’re going alone?- he probably should’ve seen it coming, but it’s still quite a shock.

 She waves a hand, shaking her head.

-          That’s okay, Bellamy.

 No it’s not and- he thinks about his mother, steel eyes and white bone and so fearless and so scared, calling his name in the dark of the night, her sweaty hand finding his. And he just refuses. Like hell she'll go through it alone. 

 -          I’m coming with you.- he gently takes a bag from her and wraps the scarf around her neck.- You said cab is waiting?

-          Bellamy, you don’t have to- she looks a bit stunned, brows furrowed, biting on her lower lip.-  We’re practically-

-          Friends.- he interrupts her, looking right into her eyes.- At least I consider you a friend.

She studies his face for a moment and then nods.

\-          I consider you a friend too.

-          Good, we’re on the same page.- Bellamy grabs a jacket and closes the doors behind him. – I’ll call Octavia and ask her to catsit, okay? She won’t mind, you know she loves him.

-          Okay.- she stops walking and suddenly grabs on his arm, swaying a bit on her legs, so he puts it around her and helps her get down the stairs.

They’re sitting a cab and she hold his hands, digging her nails in his flesh a bit, but he couldn’t care less. Her eyes are big and blue in the dimmed light, shining, and she looks like she’s about to cry.

-          I’m scared. – she whispers, lips barely parted, releasing one  hand to caress her stomach, resting it underneath the curve, circling it, soothing.- And she’s probably scared too.

Bellamy’s hear clenches and, without thinking, he lowers his head to press a kiss her temple and he wraps his arms around her. She tucks her head under his chin, her ear pressed to his collarbone, her lips almost touching his skin.

 -You’ll be fine.- he says, rubbing her back, doing for her what she does for the baby.- You’ll both be fine. Don’t you want to see her?

He rather feels Clarke smile, than sees.

-          Yeah. I do.

 

* * *

 

 

And that’s why Bellamy Blake ends up sitting on the single most uncomfortable chair in the waiting room in the entire hospital, holding a styrofoam cup of long gone cold coffee and wearing grey, stained sweatpants and the ‘’kiss the nerd!’’ shirt Octavia bought him as a gag gift.

He also has his old glasses and a pretty bad case of a bedhead and he doesn’t give a single damn about it, because Clarke’s been in there for hours now and he knows nothing, because he’s not a family.

His phone starts to ring suddenly, making him literally jump up. All the other people waiting in the room stare at him accusingly, as he tries to get his cell out of the pocket and stop ‘’I’ve got a pocket full of sunshine ‘  from chirping loudly and cheerfully and totally inappropriately. His sister chose it herself, because she likes to bully him and because she’s an asshole.

-          What the fuck, why were you calling me so early?- Octavia’s voice all lazy and sleepy and Bellamy can’t even wrap his mind around  how she can sleep peacefully while Clarke’s trying to push pineapple sized baby out of her behind the doors he’s currently sitting in front of.

-          Listen, O. I need you to go to my place and grab the keys to Clarke’s flat-

-          Why do you have keys to Clarke’s-

-          For an emergency, so for now. I want you to grab it the bowl with all the keys- is the small silver one just like mine but on a chain– and go to her flat and feed Edgar. And you can take him home and you need to take care of him for a while, okay?

-          Whyyyyyy? – Octavia’s yawning and Bellamy can hear Lincoln’s ‘Who is it?’

-          Because she’s in labor and I’m sitting in a hospital and I can’t do it because I won’t just leave her alone.- he nearly barks and then there’s a pang of springs of the bed and Octavia sounds very much awake.

-          What.

-          Exactly what you heard.

-          No shit. I though she’s due to like, in a three weeks’ time?

-          Two weeks actually. – Bellamy signs heavily and rubs the back of her neck.- But baby’s will is her command. I’ll let you know if I know anything, okay?

-          Yeah, please. And I’ll take the cat, don’t worry. – Octavia starts to explain the situation to Lincoln and he ends the call, slumping again on the chair, head thrown back and leaned on the disgustingly mustard hospital wall.

 

 

It’s definitely the longest seven hours of his life.

He manages to nap a few times, but he’s too nervous and full of caffeine to get any real rest, so he’s mostly pacing through the corridor, drumming his fingers on his knee and staring at the clock hanging on the wall directly in front of him.

So when the nurse comes out and asks if there’s anyone for Clarke Griffin,  he rushes towards her with a grace of an elephant in a porcelain store and almost breaks his neck while tripping on his own feet.

But then he opens the door and Clarke’s there , sitting on the bed with her hair in a loose bun and a pink bundle in her arms and he feels so damn out of place.

Friend. She should have millions of visitors right now. A lover. A family.

And he has only him.

Then she raises her head and notices him and just – smiles so much brighter than she has ever smiled around him before.

-          Bell.- she says, voice soft and surprised and all his insides are twisting.- You stayed.

-          Of course.- he’s shocked his voice not shaking at all.- You promised to introduce me.

-          She already knows you, dumbass.- he rolls her eyes, but then waves her hand at him.- Come here, then.

Clarke’s daughter is very pink, very small and very, very cute. Bellamy might be crying a little, but like, sue him. She has very tiny fingers and nose resembling a button and her small head is covered in soft, blond cloud of baby hair.

She’s freaking perfect.

He looks up and well, Clarke’s crying too.

-          Hey, don’t get all softy.- he smiles, patting gently her shoulder.

-          I just- I’ve been sitting there with her.- she sniffs, trying to put herself together, but she’s clearly exhausted and still in pain and her hormones are probably all out of place, so she’s not doing the best job. – And all of the other kids, you know, they have visitors, like grandparents and fathers and aunts and uncles with balloons and cameras and I’m like here alone and she deserves so much better, but – she hiccups and he cups her face with one hand, caressing her cheek with his thumb, trying to sooth her and she leans on it.- but then you come in, still in the same clothes, clearly up all night and waiting and hesitant and – this just mean so much to me, Bellamy.- she finishes with a whisper, locking eyes with him, eyelashes wet from the tears.

 

It’s morning, there’s a sun getting through the window and catching all the blues of Clarke’s eyes,  her daughter stirs in its blanket, but relaxes, when Clarke puts her in his arms and his heart beats so fast it almost hurts him and he can swear Bean smiles in her sleep and so he takes off his shoes and sits beside Clarke on the bed, carefully holding the baby and she puts her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes-

And as she falls asleep and the baby wraps its tiny fingers around his bigger one, this is how Bellamy Blake really, truly _epically_ falls.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 -          Let’s try to look at upsides. You’re like, raising next Adele.

Clarke, who hasn’t been sleeping for about thirty something hours raises her red eyes and sends him a glare which would scare off practically everybody.

But Bellamy knows Clarke won’t move when her baby is sleeping on her chest.

-          I’m going to murder you.

-          No you’re not. This might’ve woken her up.

She leans her head on the wall and sighs heavily.

-          Fact.

They both sigh deeply. Living room is one big mess with diapers and blankets and baby clothes and Bellamy can't remember the last time he has taken a show cause it feels like a lifetime ago. Turns out newborns are a pretty time and energy consuming Christmas gifts.  

But she's asleep and Bellamy hopes it will stay this way for some time and it looks like they might get lucky. He just needs to find some strength to stand up and change. And maybe make Clarke eat something. 

 

And then Edgar jumps from the window sill and flower pot lands on the flood with loud crack.

Bellamy’s pretty sure Clarke crying just as hard as the baby.

-          What’s wrong? – he hears her saying, rubbing circles on Bean’s back in fruitless attempt to soothe her.- Why are you so restless, honey?

They’re slowly getting out of options and Bellamy was trying to avoid his old, miracle-doing method of putting O to sleep so not to embarrass himself completely, but honestly, he doesn’t even care anymore. He goes to the kitchen to get his phone, adjusts as high volume as it’s possible on the speaker and scoops wailing infant from Clarke’s arms, singing on the top of his lungs the first line:

-          I know I’ll stand in line until you think you have a time to spend an evening with me-

He hasn’t been singing ever since Octavia outgrew her nightmares and  it feels so much better than  he thought it would.

Bean relaxes in his arms instantly, closes her little pink mouth, her eyelids flapping. He glances at Clarke and her jaw is literally on the floor, eyes open wide in pure shock, arms still outstretched. He shrugs  - it's not likes she's going to complain, right?- and then she starts to smile,  her face lightening up, all happy and giddy, giggling as she joins him.

-          And then I’ll go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like a love you. – her voice is low and raw, but nice and she has her eyes locked on his and- it’s like everything starts to shrink, the city, the world, just Clarke’s living room, Frank Sinatra  singing along the two of them, Bean falling asleep, Clarke taking a few steps until she’s right in front of him and putting one hand on his forearm, singing the last few lines -

( I love you I love you I love you)- with their faces barely inches away from each other.

 Clarke smells like breast milk and her hair is greasy, tied with elastic on the top of her head in a half bun and he has some really suspicious stains of t-shirt, but all of this doesn’t matter that much because her lips are chapped and warm and move along with his in this perfect, perfect rhythm, the magic of the moment, everything aligned for a second of two. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

He’s woken up at 6 a.m. by Clarke’s soft voice, singing Nat King’s LOVE ( they’ve discovered Bean not-so- secretly loves vintage) and when opens his eyes, he sees she’s swaying the baby in her arms, her blonde hair in one big mess on her shoulders, still dark outside as she presses small kisses on her daughter’s head in between lyrics.

She puts her back in her crib and turns around, shaking her head as she notices he’s awake.

-          I’m such a bad example for my daughter. – she whispers, going back to bed, to curl next to him, hiding her face in the crook of her neck. – Ending up in bed with the man I’m not even in relationship with.

He sighs deeply, one hand rising up to tangle in her hair. Now or never, god damn it. 

-          Would you like to be?- he asks, voice not shaky but deep, hoarse

Octavia was right. He is way too invested.

She’s quiet and still for a moment, warm air caressing his neck, heart thrashing and then she raises up and sits with crossed legs in front of him, her serious face illuminated by the moon.

-          I’ve never told you why I moved in here completely alone, right?- she stares at her hands, lacing fingers together.- Or who’s her father?

-          No. But Clarke, it doesn’t matter.- he takes one of her hands and squeezes it. It doesn’t. Not for him, anyway.

-          Maybe. But I need you to know it, before you really decide you want to get into this. – she looks him in the eyes, all soft and pleading.- Because being with me, means being with my daughter too. And I know you- I know you care. If you didn’t, you’d run away..

He chuckles, because she’s kinda right. There are few things as scary as the constantly crying infant of the girl you have a crush on throwing up on your shirt.

-          But you deserve to know everything, before you get involved.- she continues and he wants to say ‘well I’m already involved. Clearly.’  But he lets her talk. She seems to need it.

 

And then she tells him all, about the southern American dream girl, gold-haired princess  growing up in the mansion on the top of the hill, white picket fence perfection and peach trees around the house, her childhood friend running by her side, wonderful future ahead of her with med school and pearls and tea parties and 2.5 children, everything carefully planned out and prepared.

And then she tells him of her father’s realizing there’s a malfunction in the bridge he helped to design and being framed up for it while trying to catch the people actually responsible for it.

She tells him of her mother having her own part in putting her father in prison and then cutting all the links with him and getting a divorce to save family’s fortune.

She tells him of her best friend stabbed to death one cold December night, of far father being found hanged in his prison cell, of leaving Atlanta with trail of bodies behind to go to college only to find out her boyfriend made her the second one. And of never ending wave of one night stands, of trying to fill the void she was having inside the whole time.

-          And then she happened.- Clarke points at the crib with head, sad smile and chuckles white from gripping on his hand. – And I had to decide whether I want her or not. And I did. So I get it together, restarted my life all over again, found a job, moved in here. I wanted to be a better person for her. The person she would deserve. Since I’m the only thing she has. I 'm still trying to do just that, so I need to be sure you know what you're getting into. 

Clarke’s staring at their laced hands again, and he raises her chin up for her to look at him.

-          You don’t have to do it alone.- he says and he means it, he really, really does.- I’ll be there for you- both of you. If you let me.

She watches him as if she was watching a painting, all emotions written on her face and then she chuckles .

-          So.- she says slowly, rolling words on her tongue.- My cat likes you. And my baby likes you too.

She puts hands on both sides of his neck and moves closer, their knees brushing.

-          How could I say no to you?- she whispers, lips against lips, foreheads touching, only air between them.

 

 

* * *

 

 

On Christmas Eve evening there are four different cups with various drinks in various stage of coldness put in line on the small coffee table in Clarke’s living room, Love Actually flickering on the tv screen and cinnamon & apple scented candles which Octavia left the last time she visited them, all lit up on the shelve above fireplace.  Bean is sleeping soundly in her crib, put down with the help of Adele and Aretha Franklin, there's a quiet meaowing coming from the kitchen where Edgar's trying to catch a stream of running water in the sink and Bellamy’s lazily kissing Clarke’s collarbone, until she melts underneath him, eyes closed and head thrown back, soft and warm , all opened up.

-          Bellamy.- she moans, putting her hand on his back, nails slightly digging in the material of his shirt, sending shivers down his spine.

He sucks a hickey in the crook of her neck and she nudges his calf with a feet.

-          Bellamy.

-          What?- he says with his lips still on her skin.

-          We have to do something- about Bean.- he voice sounds strained, chest raising up in deep breaths.

-          She’s sleeping. If she wake up we can always- he leaves a trail of tiny kisses down the column of her neck, making her squirm.- Just put on 25 CD, she loves it.

-          She can’t go on without a name forever. How do you think we should name her?

He raises his head sharply to look at her, stunned to the core and she freaking _smirks,_ beaming at him like a sun, cheeks pink, one corner of her lips slightly higher than other one.

-          You mean it ?

It’s not only about the name. They both know it.

-          Yes.

 

 

* * *

 

Holly never really outgrows neither loud music or loud whining, but they love her a lot anyway and if her singing to her little brother to put him to sleep makes Bellamy tear up a bit, well, nobody can blame him. 

**Author's Note:**

> So. That's it.  
> Funny fact: ragdolls are called like that, because they kinda 'sag' when they are held by the person they're comfortable around. And they love kids a lot, so it seemed fitting.  
> Also 100 points to the house of the person who understood why i named the cat Edgar... which is probably nobody, duh. 
> 
> Please, please let me know what you think about this story and, if you liked it, why did you like it. It means SO MUCH to me, to read your thoughts.  
> And MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE :D


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